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2784...The Curse of an Immortal

Poetry By: joshua boyde
Poetry



Is immortally really something to be envied?


Submitted:Mar 28, 2010    Reads: 69    Comments: 4    Likes: 2   


2784 - The Curse of an Immortal
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Two thousand seven hundred and eighty four; do I really want just one more?
I've heard a carpenter on a mount, talked with a prophet on a rock, listen to a fat man on a sill, seen blood spilt in the name of one.
Lent my hand to the rise of kings, watched the fall of things.
What is the point of trying; when everyone is dying?
I am the envy of man; yet the curse of mine.

Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me,
I am two thousand seven hundred and eighty three,
Happy birthday to me.
No better make that eighty-four; but I don't look a day older than twenty-eight.

Twenty-eight is a good age to become immortal; you're old enough to be taken seriously yet young enough to still be considered fun.
But what is another birthday to me; just another grain of sand in the bottomless pit of time.
You humans envy me; yet you're the ones to be envied.

You can live with the false-believe that true-love lasts forever. I suppose it does for you, because you all will die.
Oh to meet someone new; fall in lust then love, to marry, to have children, to grow together, watch over your children's children, to become frail together, to hold each other's hands to the bitter end, to die, to rest for eternity together. You humans have it lucky.
Do you honestly think true-love would last a hundred years, two hundred, a thousand ... of course not, over time you would move further apart until one day you are looking into a vacant stare and seeing no-one there.

How many wives, how many lovers until they become one meaningless trickle of forgotten faces.
To burry so many lives.
To know that everyone you will ever know or will ever care for will be DEAD.
Their children will be DEAD. Their children's children will be DEAD.

Yes, you humans have it lucky; you only have a limited amount of time; not day after day, year after year, decade after decade, century after century ... to die in your sleep.
To be constantly on the move every few years because you don't age like the rest.
To see the world; yet to never have a place to call home.

Dracula had it easy at least he didn't have to see his never-changing face year after year in the mirror.

I would trade this curse to not know what tomorrow brings.

Yes, you humans got it lucky,
Yet you envy me.

"As long as you're still alive, there's a chance that one day I might be forgiven. It may take years. Centuries even. But at least I can carry that hope inside me. That's one blessing of immortality; there's always tomorrow. Even for us".
... Highland End Game (2000)





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